


Just Like a Trope

by Idamdra



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Public Nudity, Sexual Content, because no one showers with their clothes on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 19:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idamdra/pseuds/Idamdra
Summary: Two guys showering together, because the Portland underground was built with public showers, not personal ones.





	Just Like a Trope

In hindsight, Adil figured silence was probably the best answer he could have hoped for when asking Roland: “Do you need me to come in there with you?” It dealing with showering was not a context that sat right with him either, not when he was trying to sound somewhat threatening, but it could have been worse. Roland could have replied with a yes—or a no. Adil thought of it as a joke. They were not children. He could clean himself, or so he would think, but Roland has been known to simply stand under the water pressure and call it a day rather than using shampoo and soap to get clean.

            Underground Portland was built with public community showers. It was easier that way; simplified the pluming and reduced water usage. Clean water was not the easiest to come by, making it not as odd for the residents to hold off on showering when they could. But: Roland’s lethargy often got the better of him for a little bit longer than it should have, prompting Adil to speak up about it.

            Adil decided to strip down. He was elsewhere in the changeroom; preoccupied with thinking he should probably shave the stubble off of his face, but also figured if they were going to waste the water at least one of them was going to get clean. Roland was still positioned in the same spot and stance that he was in at the start, or at least the position Adil guessed he was in then, staring at a few floor tiles near his feet. It was doubtful he even noticed Adil patter by to the neighboring shower head, but they were the only two people there.

            The water was cold even on the warmest setting. It was a mystery to how Roland had stayed for the duration he had, but it did not go without showing. His lips had gone all sorts of shades of blue and purple, and he was shivering a bit almost as an afterthought. On the other hand, Adil scrubbed his hair with shampoo away from underneath the water. He had poured it in excess, like he always did, so he forked his fingers through what little hair Roland had and ran his hand backwards. Roland gave him a confused sideways glance as Adil started to rub the shampoo in at awkward angles—the best he could do while standing at his side.

            “You weren’t doing anything about it,” Adil said rinsing off his own hair. At least then he would look a little less ridiculous to Roland—if he were able to see him at all— without all the foam and bubbles in his hair when Adil situated himself in front of him. It was a better angle to scrub the shampoo in on his behalf. The shampoo was either dangerously close to dripping into Roland’s eyes or it was already there, but the water was making it hard to tell. If it were the later, it would have been his own fault.

            “But, you can soap yourself,” Adil said grabbing a bar of soap and pressing it against his chest—but that was not the smoothest idea. It slipped right out from underneath his palm onto the floor. He hissed out “shit” underneath his breath, but did not make any attempt to fetch it. Instead he tapped at the skin where the soap should have been with his forefinger in thought for some time, then let out a quiet chuckle and smiled.

            Roland never knew Adil as one to smile much, but it looked effortless, softened his entire expression. It was the same type of smile he remembered Greg used to give to his wife, and the same type that Johnny gave to Kathy when he thought no one was looking—or even when they were. That recognition worried Roland. Perhaps he was seeing things that were not there. His vision was not the best without his glasses.

            “Do you really want to get involved with someone like me?” Roland asked, his tone low, eyes wandering away.

            “It’s a little late for that don’t you think?” Adil responded.

            He had been Lokapala for years—Roland for even longer. Getting involved was out of the question, or rather: a question already answered. They both recognized their lives depended on each other to some survival extent, and Adil scoffed at the fact his mind went towards the more literal interpretation rather than the just as obvious alternative inquiry. The later interpretation made more sense to him given the setting.

            Adil sighed, mulling over his answer: “No, Roland, not with someone like you”—his fingers met Roland’s at their side; then wove them in the spaces between each—“just you.”

            Roland let out a heavy exhale:

            “This sounds just like a trope from a piece of fiction. Look at us; we’re naked, showering together, and suddenly it gets romantic. It’s a plot point of a crappy paperback romance.”

            “Then lets play it out like one,” Adil said. That suggestion was not among his best ideas, and he knew it. There were several hazards he could name off the top of his head right then and there. Not having planned for it only added to the list, but he also figured they did not need to get too serious to have fun either, so he cupped the side of Roland’s face and met him with a kiss. Adil was not the only one that could have benefited from shaving the stubble off of his face, not to mention some stray shampoo had found its way around Roland’s mouth. It made him taste like soap. Adil wondered if it was better or worse than tasting like traces of booze. Maybe next time he could compare, he thought.

            Adil’s hand was quick to find it more engaging to tease at Roland’s waist, then to his hip; then to his thigh. Surely Roland was able to discern how Adil’s mouth upturned into a sly grin, yet his own response was a disgruntled moan—not exactly the type of moan Adil had in mind, or hoped for.

            “What?”

            “I’m not in the mood,” Roland managed to get out.

            “Hmph… sorry I’m not good-looking or something,” Adil joked, retreating.

            ‘ _That’s not it…_ ’ Roland thought to himself.

            “It’s freezing,” Adil continued, “Bet I don’t have the warmest touch right now.”

            It was more fitting to get warm elsewhere—not to mention Adil swore he heard something or someone—so he backed up, hoping to cue Roland towards him away from the water. Instead he ended up stumbling over that bar of soap he never bothered to retrieve. This time the “Shit!” was very much audible through a sharp inhale; and, out of reflex, Adil clasped Roland’s wrist taking it with him on the way down. Adil’s shoulders slammed hard against the far wall, his backside even harder against the tile floor while Roland haphazardly landed on top of him.

            Sprawled on the floor, they both let out a pained, exhausted groan. Adil rolled his head sideways to a sight he would rather not have seen. Johnny was standing in the corridor between the shower space and the lockers, trying his best to focus on his own affairs.

            “Now, if you two are having a moment, I can leave and come back,” Johnny commented, “But, listen: ‘public affairs should be personal, but personal affairs shouldn’t be public.’ This better not be you two setting up shop here, not where people come in and out. I don’t want to have to worry about intruding on you two when I’m trying to get clean.”

            Adil turned to Roland and grumbled: “The story of a romance novel, huh? Whoever wrote it should read up on how they go.”


End file.
